The Home Front
by cybertoothtiger
Summary: A glimpse into Teri and Jack's home life just after he starts at CTU, and before Nightfall. Jack, Teri. And Mounties! Some French swear words. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Jack was standing at the counter sipping his coffee and skimming the front page of the newspaper when Teri came in after seeing Kim to the school bus. She reached past him into the cupboard for a juice glass.

"Bus on time?"

"Yes, it was fine. I really like this new driver." She opened the fridge and sniffed the juice. She hadn't had time to shop for a few days. Her new client was pretty demanding, but the work was exciting.

"Hey," he said, turning the paper over. "Do you think you could stop by Goodwill for me today? I'm going to need some plaid shirts."

"I don't know, I'm pretty swamped. I haven't even had time to do groceries. Why do you need plaid shirts?" She poured the juice and took a tentative sip. It was still okay. She started to get the cereal box out.

"I have some meetings today and it closes at six. I could pick up some groceries later," he offered.

"Okay. I'll see if I can swing it. Wait. Did you say plaid shirts from Goodwill? Jack, are you going again?" She put down the still-empty bowl and looked at him. He frowned and looked down. "You just got back a month ago."

"I know. I'm sorry. This shouldn't be a long one." He dropped the paper and rinsed his cup in the sink.

Teri sighed. "Okay, fine. Whatever. When do you leave?"

"Day after tomorrow." He grabbed his car keys, wallet and phone from the table. "Listen, I've got to run. We'll talk about it tonight, okay?" He kissed her quickly on the forehead as his phone started to ring.

"Bauer," he answered, waving awkwardly with his elbow as he opened the door with his back, his hands full of phone, jacket and briefcase. "Lock up!" he mouthed. Teri nodded and followed him to lock the door. She stood and watched him through the glass as he juggled his things, got into the car and drove away, cell phone to his ear.

She didn't mind his absences as much as she used to, and his new gig at CTU allowed him to be home more often. They were grooming him for management, and there was less undercover as a result. In some ways, it was easier when he was gone. She and Kim had their own routine. His schedule when he was around was so erratic it was difficult to keep things on an even keel. Not that it wasn't great to have him around. Of course, she would rather have him here than gone, and Kimberly loved any chance to spend time with her father.

The times she really hated were now, when he was distracted by getting ready to go, and the first few days after he came back. Sometimes it took a while to re-adjust to him being around again.

At least he had gotten better at leaving his work behind. The first few times he came back, she felt as if he were almost a different person. But now it was as if he could just flip a switch as he pulled into the driveway. It was almost always the same old Jack who walked through the front door.

The bedroom was a different story. That had taken some getting used to, but she had to admit, the sex had gotten a lot better since he'd been working undercover. They were both more willing to try new things. Teri told herself it was because they both went so long without while he was away. After all, he'd promised he would never cheat on her.

--------

"I ran into Teri Bauer today," Crystal dropped her shopping bags and settled into the café chair. "Non-fat latte, no foam," she told the waitress.

"Oh, yeah. Her daughter's Kim, right? The blonde one?" Barb stirred some sweetener into her cappuccino and encouraged her friend to continue.

"That's right. Nice kid. You'll never guess what she was doing."

"What?"

"Well, I'm in charge of the costumes for _Hansel and Gretel_, right?" Barb nodded.

"So I was at Goodwill looking for things for the Woodsman. And there was Teri in among the plaid shirts."

"So?"

"Well, she was buying them for her _husband_. Can you imagine? Buying shirts for Norm at Goodwill?"

"Ohmygod. What is he? A _farmer_?"

"Well, she says he's a salesman, but I don't know. He can't be making good money if that's where she has to shop for him."

"Maybe they spend all their money on the school," Barb suggested.

"Maybe. But god – plaid shirts. From Goodwill. To actually _wear_." She shuddered, flipping her long blond hair over her tanned shoulder.

--------

"Okay, Marc, we've got company" Stephane handed the other officer his binoculars. They'd been sitting in the barn for hours. It was a good location to keep an eye on Dieter Gutowski's place – hidden in the aspens, but with good sight lines, and off the main road to Dieter's property.

There had been a handful of bombings and vandalism at the gas wells in Northern Alberta recently, and Dieter was not shy about sharing his views on the oil industry. He claimed they had poisoned his cattle and children by flaring excess gas to relieve pressure in the pipelines. So far, they hadn't been able to connect him directly, but everyone felt it was only a matter of time. The two RCMP officers had been called in to help out the local detachment as part of a special task force.

"Thanks." Marc trained the glasses on the yard in front of the house across the field. "Looks like it's showtime," he whispered to himself.

A tall dark-haired man opened the driver's side door of a blue pickup truck and stood up, zipping up his down vest over his thick fleece. "Okay, there's Denis." They saw their informant walking towards the house. Then the passenger side door opened and a slim blonde man in a plaid shirt and jeans got out. He looked cold. "Who's he got with him?"

His partner was already snapping photos through his telephoto lens. "I don't know. Denis didn't say anything about anyone else."

A few minutes later Stephane had uploaded the photos and was on the phone. "_Merci,_ Vero. _À plus tard_."

He turned the screen of the laptop towards the other man. "Okay, the other guy is coming up as Jack Brownlee. Ex-U.S. Army, served in the Gulf. Explosives expert. Did time for a weapons charge in L.A. a few years back. Known member of White Fist, a white supremacist group in the U.S. No known eco-terrorist associations though."

Marc nodded, glancing at the screen before returning to the binoculars. The three men were standing in Dieter's kitchen. "Well, he could have other connections to Dieter. He's got more in common with the survivalists than the environmentalists."

"Where's the wire? How come we can't hear the wire?"

"Ah, _tabernac_! There must be something wrong with it." Marc fiddled with the settings on the laptop. The men sat down at Dieter's table. After what seemed like hours, the wire signal kicked in.

"…So you think Tuesday, then, Jack?"

"Yeah."

"That okay with you, Dieter?"

"I think so, yeah. You boys better get out of here. The horsemen are everywhere these days."

"Okay. See ya."

All three men stood up and Denis and Jack got back in the truck. They turned around in the yard and drove back towards home.

"Sh-t. Well, I guess we'll have to wait and see what Denis has to say," said Stephane, watching them go.

"Yeah. And have a word with Jim. That wire sucked." Marc started to pack up their equipment when he paused and looked at the screen more carefully.

"Stephane. Get Marie-Claire on the phone."

"Why? What's up?"

"She might want to know that we've got an American undercover operative sticking his nose into our case."

--------

A little while later Jack slid into the booth at Tim Horton's and gratefully wrapped his chilled hands around a large double-double. He'd forgotten how cold it could get up here. It was only September, for chrissake. Still, he'd already managed to have a meeting with his main target. He leaned back in the booth.

Two men came in wearing coveralls and workboots. "Hey, Francine," one called to the middle-aged woman with the tightly permed hair behind the counter." His accent was slightly French-Canadian. "Hi Stephane, Marc. The usual?" She started pouring coffee.

The men began to laugh and joke in French as they took their coffees and sat in the booth behind Jack's. Jack didn't speak much French, but he was fluent in Spanish and there was enough similarity that usually he could get the gist of a conversation in the other language. He tried to follow along just for the practice, but the men's accents and slang made it almost impossible. He'd almost given up when he heard the words "Dieter" and "Stony Plain" and "Mardi." He knew Mardi meant Tuesday. He tensed. These guys knew something.

In the next booth, Marc nodded almost imperceptibly to his partner without interrupting the flow of the conversation, which was mostly about hockey and girls. He had seen Jack react to the planted words. Not much; the guy was good, but enough that someone with the right training could pick up on it. Marc was an experienced officer, and knew exactly what to look for. He was an excellent observer. He had recognized Jack from photos that one of his men had brought back from a training course with LAPD's SWAT team. The man had raved about what a great instructor Bauer had been, and the name and face stuck in Marc's mind.

Stephane got up to get a refill. His plan was to trip just before he got back to Jack and force an introduction, but Jack stuck out his foot and he spilled more coffee than he meant to.

Jack was on his feet in an instant. "Oh, man, I'm sorry!"

Stephane rolled with the change in plan. This could give him the upper hand. "F-ck, man, what is your problem? Look what you made me do, f-ck."

"Jeez, take it easy. You didn't burn yourself did you?" Jack grabbed some napkins and started mopping up the coffee on the table.

"Aw, _merde_, it's all over my new boots, f-ck."

"Sh-t. I'm sorry. I just needed to stretch my legs a bit. I didn't even see you there. Hey, let me buy you a beer. I'm Jack."

"Yeah, you're Jack sh-t man –"

Marc decided it was time to step in. "Hey, Stephane, take it easy. Your boots are going to get plenty dirty tomorrow, and this dude's just offered us some free beer, right, Jack?"

Jack and Stephane stared off for a minute before Stephane backed down. "Yeah, okay. Sorry, man. I just got these boots. They're really expensive, you know?"

"I apologize." Jack looked at the boots. "They are nice. Vibram soles?"

"Yeah, the whole deal."

"Where'd ya get them? I'm going need me a new pair pretty soon."

"Marks' in West Ed. You a pig?"

"_Excuse_ me?" Jack's voice held a hint of menace.

"Rig pig, man. You working the rigs?"

"Yeah, I mean, no, not yet. I'm looking for work. I was doing construction, but I hear the rigs pay better."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Buy us that beer and we can hook you up. The company we work for is hiring, f-ck."

The men headed into the parking lot and climbed into an extended cab pick up truck with a gas company logo on the side. Marc steered the truck out of the service road and onto the main highway, turning off on onto another service road leading to a hotel. The town was small. This cluster of generic chain gas stations, pizza places and motels had drained the business out of the downtown and made it look like every other place along the highway. The hotels were doing double-duty as apartments for oilfield workers and business was booming. Almost every vehicle in the parking lot was a truck with a logo. Marc and Stephane had established their cover as welders for one of the companies that had experienced vandalism. It gave them a reason to travel around the countryside and park their truck without raising suspicion.

The bar was dark and smokey, with pool tables and VLTs on one side and tables covered with terrycloth on the other next to a forlorn-looking dance floor. The men ordered a pitcher of beer, some chicken wings and nachos before Jack picked up a pool cue.

As Marc racked up, Stephane chalked his cue and leaned against the table.

"So where are you from?" he motioned to Jack to take the first shot.

Jack made a nice clean break, sinking several balls.

"California, originally. I traveled a bit with the Army when I was younger, and followed a girl up to Vancouver. Didn't work out, so I thought I'd try here. How about you guys?"

"We're from Sudbury. That's in Ontario," he explained, seeing the blank look on Jack's face.

"But you guys speak French?"

"Franco-Ontarian. There's craploads of us up there." Jack nodded. Whatever. He wasn't here for a geography lesson.

As the evening progressed the three undercover operators downed more beers and sank some more balls and downed more beers and plied each other for information, all the while carefully planting some of their own. The pussyfooting around was stupid, really. Normally the Mounties would have identified themselves and shared their information, but Marie Claire had been pissed off when Marc had told her about Jack. She wanted to call around and find out if CSIS knew someone from a branch of the CIA was operating on Canadian soil. And if they did, why no-one had thought to tell her. She'd been fighting for greater inter-agency co-orperation for months. You could guarantee this jackass wanted something different from their informant than they did, and it could jeopardize her operation. Her instructions had been to maintain their cover and find out what they could in the meantime.

When Jack finally fell onto the orange polyester coverlet on his motel room bed, the room was spinning slightly. _Holy sh-t, those guys can drink._ He had to remember to eat more. He'd got some good intel, though. He'd call it in after he'd sobered up a bit. He turned his head and focused on the clock. Still time to call Teri.

Normally he didn't. It was easier to maintain his cover if he kept Brownlee and Bauer very separate. But there was no one here who knew Brownlee, and no one around. The chances of his phone being tapped were almost nil. He decided to take a chance. He reached out a hand and dragged the phone towards him on the bed, punching in the numbers.

She answered right away.

"Hey, sweetheart."

"Jack! I didn't think you'd be able to call."

"Yeah, I'm in a motel. You can't call me though."

"Had a good night, Jack?" She smiled. She could hear that he'd been drinking.

"Yeah." He smiled wryly. "Sorry to call you like this. I just wanted to hear your voice."

"Any way you call me is a good way, Jack." Teri leaned back from the computer where she'd been working late. "God, it's so good to hear your voice!"

"Really? I've only been gone two weeks," Jack teased. "It's good to hear yours, too, sweetheart. How's Kim?"

"Good, good. She was one of the crows in _Hansel and Gretel_ at school."

"Crows?"

"Yeah, they wanted everyone to have a part. I videotaped it for you. She can't wait to watch it with you."

He felt the dull ache of guilt at missing yet another event in his daughter's life. He'd been gone so much. "Thanks. I can't wait either. I'm sorry I missed it. How's work?" He remembered she'd been starting a big project just before he left.

"Great! I mean, you, know, the usual hassles, but I've had tones of ideas for the space, and George has been fantastic at giving me free reign." She told him a bit more about the restaurant she was designing, making him laugh at the antics of the crew. He was always amazed at how she just took everything in stride. She was a great manager, with just the right mix of firm but fair. Her sub-contractors adored her, as did he. They talked for a long time, but it seemed far too short. Reluctantly, he decided he had to wrap it up and call in his intel.

"Listen, Teri, I'd better go."

"I know. I should finish this up and get to bed here, too." They paused, enjoying the comfortable silence.

"I miss you."

"I miss you too, sweetheart. Give my love to Kim, okay?"

"Okay."

"Keep the home fires burning," he joked.

"I will, Jack. You come home safe, you hear me?"

"I will. Love you."

"Love you too." Jack held the phone to his chest for a few moments after the line went dead, savoring the contact. He longed for her so much. He knew guys who'd lost their marriages after they started doing undercover missions. There were so many temptations. _No,_ he thought, _More than temptations._ He allowed himself to enjoy them, now. He'd grown used to it and found tricks to help him keep what he had to do separate from his real life, so he no longer felt like he was cheating on her.

But instead of growing apart from Teri, the more time he spent apart from her, the more he found himself falling deeper in love. Some of the other women may have been better in bed, but not one of them could match her sense of humour and her unwavering support for him. _You are one lucky bastard, Jack Bauer._

He slowly hung up the phone and dragged himself to the shower. Time to get back to work.


	2. Chapter 2

"Tremblay." Marie-Claire had already been at her desk in Ottawa for an hour, but it was still early out west.

"Hey, boss. It's Marc."

"What do you got for me?" Marie-Claire straightened at her desk and pulled a file towards her.

"Well, we know the guy can drink."

"You guys need some more training in that? I can come out there and show you how to do it." She laughed.

"No, that's okay." He replied quickly. He'd seen her in action and was under no illusions about who would win that contest. "We held our own." Marc looked over at his smaller partner, who gave him the finger as he reached for the bottle of Tylenol.

"Okay. I made some enquiries, and the Americans aren't going to admit they have an operative up here." Marie-Claire tapped her pencil the way she always did when she was annoyed. "Are you sure he is who you think he is?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. He was part of the security detail on the G-8 summit in Montréal two years ago with the CIA. That didn't show up in the initial search because it's a higher clearance. Steph and I were on the turbot thing at the time and weren't involved, so he won't recognize us. He recently got on with a branch of the CIA called the Counter Terrorist Unit."

"Okay, good work." She was satisfied. "What's your plan?"

"His cover is he's looking for work on the rigs, but that's no good for us. We don't want him out where we can't see him. I thought we could set him up with Dave's crew inspecting the lines. It will give him more mobility so we can keep in touch, and Dave can keep an eye on him."

"Do it. He'll probably get word that we think there's an operative up here, so watch your back. What about Denis?"

"Yeah, we don't want Denis to know this guy is an operative. We're a bit worried about Denis. The wire didn't work right yesterday, and Jim swears he set it properly."

"Pay him a visit and remind him who he's working for, yes?"

"Already done, boss."

"Okay, good. Let's let this play out for a bit longer and see where it leads. And Marc?" Marie-Claire paused, making sure Marc was listening to what she was saying.

"Yeah?"

"I'm not comfortable with this guy's explosives training. If it looks like he's willing to leave a little 'collateral damage,' you bring him in. Understood?"

"_Bien oui._"

"If he hits a sour gas well, we're all screwed."

"_Oui, oui_, I get it." Marc rolled his eyes at Stephane. "We'll keep you posted." He snapped his cell phone shut and tossed his partner his coat. "We'd better get going."

--------

Jack was catching up on his written logs, balancing his laptop on knees when there was a knock at the door. He looked up and reached for his weapon on the bed beside him. "Yeah?"

"Jack! Open the door, man." Jack recognized Stephane's voice. "Just a minute." He closed his file and powered down, stashing the computer under the mattress again and tucking his gun into the jean jacket on the chair before tousling his hair and moving to the door.

"What time is it?" He opened the door and blearily rubbed his hands over his eyes just as the other man was about to knock again.

"Jeez, Jack. How you going to get a job sleeping in all day? It's 7:30, f-ck." Stephane moved past him into the room, subtly checking around for evidence that Jack had been doing anything other than sleeping. Nothing. "Get dressed. Marc's waiting for us downstairs."

"Why?"

"We ran into one of the foreman at breakfast this morning. He's got an opening on an inspection crew. You interested? It's way better than the rigs," he explained. "Pays the same, but you get to live here instead of in a crappy trailer on site."

Jack was suspicious. This was easier than it should be. But if he turned it down that would look odd, and whatever was going on, this would bring him closer to the action. "Yeah, that sounds good. I'll take whatever. Just give me a sec."

He grabbed his jeans from the floor and pulled them on over his boxers, then took a clean shirt from his duffle bag, buttoning it over his bare chest as he headed for the bathroom. He quickly brushed his teeth and combed his hair, then slipped on his jacket and leant over carefully as he did the laces on his runners, so as not to expose his gun. He'd rather have it in his leg holster, but there'd be time to move it later. Luckily he'd put the holster in the jacket pocket earlier. "Let's go."

-------

A few hours later Jack was in the passenger seat of yet another pickup truck, properly kitted out in new steel-toed boot and safety vest. A hard hat and respirator sat on the console beside him next to the GPS and map marked with the locations of all the well heads in the area. There was also a warm parka with the company logo stuffed behind the seat.

Dave was driving. He was stocky, in his early 30s with a mousy-brown mullet. After he'd given Jack the basic run-down of the job and equipment, all he wanted to talk about was hockey. Jack didn't mind so much. He'd grown to love the game since the first time he'd seen Gretzky play in L.A. He'd been at the game as part of a surveillance mission, but had found himself distracted by the action on the ice.

Gretzky was like poetry, seemingly effortless in his ability to be exactly where he was needed to put the puck in. And a real team player, who didn't mind if he wasn't the one who netted the goal. Jack admired his tactical skill, and thought he would have made a great agent if he weren't a hockey player. Josh had grown up in Edmonton cheering for the Oilers, so they shared their Gretzky memories and did the whole male bonding thing. It was a conversation Jack could keep going while thinking about his next move. The phone on his belt rang.

"Excuse me, Dave." He flipped it open. He was using an older model to match his cover, and the thing was a brick. On the plus side, it got great reception, even out here. "Yeah."

"Jack, it's Nina. Can you talk?" Nina sat at her station in CTU looking at the report on her screen. She had started there a few months before Jack, and it irked her somewhat that he was advancing faster than her. _Helps to be a guy_. She had decided if she couldn't beat him, she would ride his coattails as far as she could. The quality of the view from back there didn't hurt.

"No, I won't be able to make that today. I'll have to reschedule for next week. What do you have available?" He let her know it was okay to have a one-sided conversation.

"Okay. Division just posted to the case file. The RCMP has been raising a stink with CSIS. They think there's one of our operators up there. You may have been compromised."

_Dammit. _

"Do you have anything earlier in the day? I'd like to come in before work." He motioned to Dave for a pen and something to write on. Dave pointed to the glove box. Jack opened it and pulled out a small notebook with a pen stuck in the spiral binding.

"Henderson says you can proceed as planned, but watch out. They won't like what you want to do." Nina added to the logs that Jack had found a job. She'd fill in the details when he reported later. "They may not have figured out it's you, so don't identify yourself unless you have to."

"Thursday at 7:00 am. Okay. See you then." He shut the phone, ripped out the piece of paper from the notebook and put it in his pocket. "Dentist. I lost a crown yesterday." He explained to Dave.

"Bummer, dude. Your dental plan won't kick in for three months."

Jack shrugged. "What are you going to do?" He looked out the window at the fields dotted with groves of aspen, their leaves a brilliant yellow. The weather had warmed up again, and the round bales of golden hay contrasted beautifully with the clear blue sky. Far to the west he could just see the tops of the Rockies, already capped with snow.

Dave glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. That phone call was not good news. He'd have to let the other officers know they needed to back off for a while. He turned the truck off the gravel road and pulled up next to a large white pipe coming out of the ground in an inverted 'U' shape. A small metal shed stood in one corner of the yard around the pipe, surrounded by a chain-link fence.

He showed Jack how to check the pressure and do a general safety inspection, recording the visit on the log. He made sure Jack understood exactly what could go wrong, and what to do if it did. He figured that phone call meant Jack would make his move fairly soon or not at all, and he wanted to make sure there were no stupid mistakes just in case he gave them the slip. _If he's going to do something, no sense anyone getting killed._

They finished up and pulled back onto the road. They could see the dust from another vehicle approaching to the west. As they got closer, they could see a white pick-up with police lights on top. "Fish and Wildlife." Dave said. "They're the bush cops." Jack grunted.

The two trucks slowed and pulled up alongside each other. They were the only vehicles for miles so there was no harm in chatting.

"Dave." The Conservation Officer let his arm rest on the open window.

"Dave." The inspector nodded a greeting.

"Who's that you got with you?"

"This is Jack. Just started today. I'm showing him around. Jack, Dave." Jack leaned forward and nodded. "Hi."

"Oh, yeah? Nice to meet ya." He looked back at Dave. "How's Jen?"

"Sh-t, man, she's as big as a house. She's hoping she'll pop before the cold weather hits. She doesn't think she'd be able to bend over to get her boots on."

"No doubt, eh. Jessica getting excited about meeting her little sister?"

"Yeah."

"I bet. Well, tell her I said hi." He smiled, then grew serious. "You guys make sure to wear your vests, eh? There's lots of hunters up from the States, you don't want to be mistaken for a whitetail."

"Absolutely."

"I guess I'd better get going. It's our busy season. We've got everyone in the field right now. We're keeping an eye on your equipment too while we're out here. We'll catch those bastards one of these days."

"Hope so."

"Okay then, catch you later."

"Later." They both drove on. Jack started to formulate a new plan. Hunting season could be an advantage. "Hey, I've always wanted to bag a deer. Where can I get a rifle around here?" He asked casually.

"Canadian Tire in Red Deer is probably closest. You won't be able to use it now, though." Dave answered.

"Why not?"

"It's bow hunting only this early in the season. You need to get yourself a bow and some arrows, buddy. And don't forget to get your license, or Dave there will be on your ass." He took his eyes off the road to look at Jack. "No offense, but a guide might not be a bad idea."

"Huh." He grunted thoughtfully. _Bow and arrows? Is this guy serious?_ Canada was turning out to be a lot more fun than he'd imagined.


	3. Chapter 3

Teri looked at the menu proofs and frowned. "I think we could do better than this orange. I'm thinking more of a terra-cotta, Tex-Mex kind of look." She picked up the Pantone book from the drafting table and held it to the light coming from the large windows behind her, fanning out the reds and oranges. Choosing a couple of pages, she laid the book down next to the proof. "Do you see? That one really makes the yellow pop."

"Yes! That's definitely better," Kitty agreed. "Let's go with the darker shade." She wrote down both the Pantone number and the CMYK code to be on the safe side. Then she broke off one of the perforated colour chips, taping it to the proof before taking a pencil and making a note for the graphic artist. "Okay, so we'll need to change this on the business cards and promo flyer as well."

"Good. Did you want to look at the chairs now, or should we grab some lunch?"

"Lunch first, I think. I could use a break." Kitty filed the proof back in the docket and reached for her purse. "Let's get a sandwich from the deli downstairs and sit outside for a change."

"Sounds good."

Sandwiches and drinks in hand, the women strolled through the park until they found a bench. "Mmmmm. I was hungrier than I thought," mumbled Teri, her mouth full of ham on rye.

"You need to take better care of yourself, Teri. You're running yourself ragged with Jack away so much." Kitty unwrapped her straw and took a sip of her orange juice. "I don't know how you do it." Kitty was one of Teri's oldest friends, and one of the few people in their lives who knew what Jack really did for a living.

"Lots of men travel for work." Teri shrugged. "On our block alone there's a pilot, a university professor and a pharmaceutical rep. They all travel."

"None of them travel to the places Jack does." Kitty pointed out.

"Well, the accountant down the street went to Bosnia last summer. He specializes in international accounting," she explained. "Besides, even the ones who don't travel are almost never home. Look at Gord." Kitty's husband was trying to make partner at his law firm, and worked long hours.

"True, I guess." Kitty pulled back the wrap on her chicken salad sub and took another bite. They watched a young couple on roller blades skate by holding hands. Kitty sighed. "Do you remember when we used to have lunch dates that were actually dates?"

"No," laughed Teri. "You maybe. Me, never. Jack's never had that kind of job."

Kitty laughed too. "How's Kim?"

"Oh, god. Her cousin Josh came over last night. It was the total Bickersons. They couldn't agree on anything. I wanted to throttle them!"

"Josh? Isn't that Graem's son? I didn't know you saw them much." Kitty was surprised. She knew Jack was not close to his side of the family, and could barely stand to be in the same room as his younger brother.

Teri shook her head. "We don't. I don't think the kids should have to pay for that though. Marilyn and I try to get them together as often as I can when Jack's away, but I don't know if it's worth it. The age difference is just too much. Kim feels like she's babysitting."

"That's understandable, but still. Good for you. They'll thank you when they're older. Family is so important." She crumpled up the sandwich wrapper and reached into a small paper bag for her cookie. "Want a bite? White chocolate Macadamia nut." She waggled it at Teri.

"No thanks. I'm full." Teri stretched, catlike, and re-settled on the bench. She yawned. "I'm so tired today. I didn't get much sleep last night. Jack called."

"Really? I didn't think he could." Her friend leaned forward, eager for details. "What did he say? Did he tell you where he is?"

"Of course not! Don't be silly. I have no idea." She was nervous that anyone would even think Jack could make a mistake like that. "No, but I think he's having a decent time of it for a change. He was drunk when he called."

"Jeez-us. He called you when he was drunk? Doesn't that bother you, that he was out drinking?"

Teri thought for a moment. "I don't know. I suppose not. I've never really thought about it. It seemed like something he had to do for work. It wasn't like he was out at a party or anything."

"How do you know?"

"I don't, I guess." She hugged herself. Her silk tank top suddenly seemed insufficient for the day. She wished she'd brought her blazer from the office.

Kitty broke the silence. "Do you ever think about, you know, the things he might have to do when he's away?"

"Like what?" her voice was as cool as her arms.

Kitty glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot. "You know what I mean. All those secret identities. Well…I mean… You've seen the same TV shows I have," her voice limped to the end of the thought.

Teri stared straight ahead. "This isn't TV."

"No, of course not. But…"

"What are you doing, Kitty?"

"I don't know, I just – "

"No, really, what are you doing?" Teri turned on the woman who was supposed to be her closest friend. "Don't you think I've thought about this? Don't you think this is hard enough for me without you rubbing it in my face?" Kitty sat back defensively.

"Look, Teri, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"God, Kitty! You're my best friend! You of all people should know how tough this is for me!" She could feel the tears welling up. _Dammit. Keep it together, Teri._ She hated it if she cried when what she was really feeling was anger.

"This is my husband we're talking about. This is _Jack_, dammit! _Jack_, who stood by me when we got pregnant far too young. _Jack_, who is the most involved father I know when he can be around. _Jack_, who joined the military so he could provide for us while he went to school so he wouldn't be stuck in some dead end job after his father practically disowned him. Jack would never, _never_ do anything to hurt me."

"I know, Teri. I know. I'm sorry." She reached out and drew her friend into an embrace. "I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry." They pulled apart and Kitty rummaged in her purse for tissue. "I'm just concerned about you, that's all."

Teri nodded, folding the tissue and taking a deep breath. "I know. It's just – I try not to think about it. I hate to think about it." She looked at Kitty imploringly. "I _can't_ think about it, or I'll go crazy. You understand?"

Kitty nodded. "I do. I really do, Teri." She put her hand over her friend's for a moment.

She couldn't tell her.

_I saw him, Teri._ She had been in a crappy part of town, checking the junk shops for old pitcher frames and candlesticks for a space she and Teri were designing. She'd been just about to leave one store when she saw Jack in front of the diner down the street. Her first instinct was to go out and say hi, but then she remembered that Teri had told her he was away, so she drew back into the store, pretending to have another look at some things in the window. She thought it would be fun to watch him for a while, see what Mr. Spy Man did at work.

He was leaning against the passenger door of an old blue sedan, his legs stuck lazily in front of him, one booted foot over the other. He was wearing jeans and a ratty brown bomber jacket. He looked scruffier than usual, but still very attractive. She'd never had a thing for him, but her friend's husband had always been easy to look at.

Jack checked his watch and crossed his arms. The door to the diner opened and a blonde woman in a waitress uniform came out. She walked straight up to Jack. He squinted up at her in the harsh sunlight, but his posture remained the same. They obviously knew each other.

As the woman talked to him, he reached out a hand and took hers, looking at her intently. He laughed at something she said, and pulled on the woman's hand, forcing her to bend toward him. He grabbed her head with his other hand and… kissed her. _Holy sh-t!_ Kitty couldn't believe what she was seeing. This was not just a friendly peck on the cheek. This was a full-on, passionate kiss. He stood up and turned, putting his arm around the woman as he opened the car door for her, helping her get in. _Always the gentleman, huh, Jack._ Kitty stepped back from the window as he walked toward her, but he was just going around to the driver's side of the car. He got in and they drove away. Kitty was shaking.

That had been weeks ago, and Kitty was still upset at the memory. She had been trying to figure out what to do. He had obviously been working. But still… didn't Teri have the right to know? _You can never tell what goes on in an marriage from outside it_, she reminded herself. Maybe Teri knew and was fine with it. Maybe they weren't the perfect couple that they seemed. Maybe she didn't want to know. Kitty had decided to sound Teri out gently, without letting on that she knew anything. She was glad she had. It was obvious Teri was not ready to hear what Kitty had to tell her.

"Okay, then." Kitty snapped back to the present at Teri's voice. Teri checked her watch and set her shoulders. "Those chairs aren't going to choose themselves. Time to get back to work."

"Okay." They left their garbage in the bin and crossed the street, heading back to the office they shared.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack tossed his duffle bag on the bed and started transferring his things to the smaller courier bag he had picked up earlier that day.

He had finished picking out his hunting bow and arrows at the Canadian Tire store Dave had recommended when he saw the display of backpacks and courier bags. He tossed one in his cart. It was smaller and easier to carry than his duffle, but it looked like it would hold a lot of stuff. _Never know when this might come in handy_. He paid and went out to Dieter's for some target practice before their meeting.

He had been the archery champion at summer camp three years running, but hadn't kept it up. It was good to feel the weight of the bow in his hands again. It was nicely balanced, and felt more, what? More primal, he guessed. He put an arrow on the string and pulled it back.

_Thwup._ A little shy. He adjusted his aim and tried again. _Thwack._ Bull's eye.

A few more quick arrows told him he hadn't lost his touch. He had no plans to use the weapon, as he had his gun. But it would be part of his cover and he wanted to be prepared. He headed up to the house where Dieter and Denis were waiting.

Jack pointed to the map spread on the harvest table in Dieter's kitchen. "Okay, if we hit here, here, and here, that will knock out the supply to the refinery at Bowden." He named a nearby town. Dieter and Denis sipped their coffee and looked at the spots Jack indicated. Jack cocked his head at Dieter. "That will send a pretty big message. I've chosen the locations that will cause the most damage with the least risk. None of these are sour gas wells." Jack knew sour gas was deadly at very low concentrations, and didn't want to endanger the local population.

"Yeah, okay." Dieter stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"I'll set them all on timers and do the one closest to Bowden last. They should all go off together." He turned to Denis. "Okay. I've given you what you wanted. Now it's your turn. What time is the prisoner being transferred?"

The overweight man straightened slightly, shifting his weight to his other foot. "8:45"

"Alright. I'll set the charges for 8:30. That gives you 15 minutes to get in position once they realize something's happening. Our biggest problem is that the RCMP detachment is right across the highway. But, the alarm relay will automatically dispatch emergency services, and should get them out of the way as they check out the well heads. They won't be expecting anything at the prison. At exactly 8:46, you cut the power to the grid here." He pointed to another spot. "They won't be able to get in or out for two minutes while the emergency generators reset. I've got to make sure I've got to him before then."

Denis nodded. "Yeah, I can do that."

"Are you sure?" Jack's voice was hard. "We cannot allow this guy to testify. He'll bring down our whole operation in the States."

Denis glared at Jack. "I said I could, didn't I?"

Jack studied him for a minute. He still wasn't sure about this guy, but what choice did he have? "Okay, then. Good. We'd better get going." He folded the map and put it back in his bag. He had to get back to the motel, get his stuff and check out.

**Xxxxx**

Everything packed, he checked one last time under the bed then let the door lock behind him. He stowed the bow in the back of the truck, and swung out on the service road toward the highway. He'd have to make good time.

He'd just laid the first charge and was heading back to the main road when a truck pulled into the smaller gravel road, blocking his exit. _Sh-t._ It was Dave, the Conservation Officer. _If I play nice, maybe he'll go away._ He pulled to a stop and rolled down his window as the officer approached.

"Dave."

"Jack, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Forget something?" Dave had seen this guy with the gas company inspector earlier. It was odd that he would be back so soon. He touched his side-arm casually, as if it were just a place to rest his hand.

"Nah. I thought I saw some deer out here this afternoon. I thought I'd come back and try my luck." He smiled.

"Step out of the vehicle, please." He unsnapped his holster and stepped back from the door as he opened it from the outside.

"Sure, Dave. What's wrong?" Jack raised one arm and reached for the door handle with the other.

"I'd like to see your hunting license and inspect your weapon, please." Dave had barely finished speaking when Jack's elbow connected with his jaw. Jack spun him around and slammed him against the side of his truck, twisting Dave's arm behind his back and relieving him of his weapon. He held it to Dave's head and clicked off the safety. "Sorry, Dave. I wasn't expecting company."

"Who the f-ck do you think you are?" spluttered Dave.

"Just someone who likes to hunt alone," Jack replied, his voice low and menacing. "Now be smart and I won't have to hurt you." He yanked the other man back towards his own vehicle. "Get in." Dave hesitated. "I said, _get in._" Dave obeyed. With his free hand, Jack took the officer's handcuffs off his belt and snapped one end over one wrist. "Put your arm through the steering wheel."

"What are you going to do?"

"_Do it_!"

"Okay, okay." Dave complied, and Jack cuffed the hands together through the steering wheel. "Thanks, Dave. Sorry about this." He lowered the gun slightly, snapped the safety back on, then raised the butt and knocked Dave out cold.

He went around the other side of the vehicle and ripped out the wires connecting the radio. Then he rummaged through the glove compartment, making sure there wasn't a cell phone that Dave could reach. He took the government-issue rifle from its rack and had picked up the box of ammunition when he paused. There was a tranquilizer rifle and a box of darts as well. He grabbed those too. He loaded everything in his truck and sped away.

**xxxxxxx**

Denis dropped the spent end of his cigarette and ground it into the pavement with his toe.

"And _why _didn't you tell us about this meaning ahead of time, exactly?" Marc was pissed off. Denis was proving difficult to control, and he didn't appreciate being played.

"I told you. There wasn't time." Denis leaned back against the wall of the convenience store and sipped at his Slurpee. Marc could see how he kept his dumpy figure.

"Uh-huh. Whatever. So you say the real target is this Phil Adams guy?" Marc took another drag on his cigarette and flicked the ashes away casually. Just two guys having a smoke and shooting the sh-t.

"Yeah. Says he's a key guy in White Fist in the States. He was up here to give a talk and got hauled in for distributing hate propaganda, the dumb f-ck."

Marc sighed and rubbed his neck. It had been a long day, and it wasn't going to be over anytime soon. He could feel his headache coming back. He should pick up some more Tylenol while he was here. Stephane had taken the bottle with him, the little prick.

"Okay. So you're supposed to be at the Institution by 8:30, and cut the power at 8:46."

"Yeah. Should I not?"

"I think it's better if you go ahead with the plan."

Denis nodded and walked away. Marc stubbed out his smoke in the ashtray on the wall. He looked at his watch. Crap. It was almost seven already. He called Stephane.

"_Oui, 'ello?_"

"Steph, it's Marc. We've got a problem. We've got to shut our American friend down, now. He's about to wear out his welcome." He filled in his partner and they planned their attack. Marc snapped the phone shut and went back inside the store.

**Xxxxx**

"Almeida."

"Tony it's Jack. Where's Nina?" He was driving as fast as he could with one hand. The road was freshly graveled and his tires had a tendency to slide.

"She's over at Division this evening, Jack."

"What?" She was supposed to be helping him._ Dammit. _Jack preferred to deal with Nina. Tony always wanted to play by the book and things were rapidly going pear-shaped out here.

"Yeah, something came up."

"Why wasn't I told about this?" Jack demanded.

"Well, maybe if you called in more often, Jack [_ass_, you would hear about these things." Jack had yet to earn Tony's respect.

"Tony, I don't have time for this. Who's running point?"

"I am."

"Fine."

"What do you need?"

"I'm going to need an extraction. How soon can you get me out of here?"

Tony cradled the phone with his shoulder as he typed. "I thought you were staying until Tuesday, then flying commercial?"

"Yeah, well, that's not going to work out. How soon, Tony?"

Tony found what he was searching for. "Okay, we have a Blackhawk on a training exchange at CFB Cold Lake. I can muster the crew. Should be about an hour, hour and a half."

"Dammit, Tony, I can't wait that long." Jack found the road he was looking for and turned off.

"I'll see what I can do, Jack." _'Cause that's my job, apparently. Cleaning up your messes._ Why did this guy's missions never go as planned? He always had to play the hot-shot and change things on the fly. "Where do you want the rendez-vous?"

Jack didn't bother to conceal his frustration as he gave him the coordinates. "Please, Tony, hurry. If I'm captured, it will get messy for Washington."

"Yeah." Tony hung up and dialed division to get the ball rolling.

**xxxxxxxx**

Jack saw the dust from the truck while it was still a few miles away. _Dammit._ For a supposed backwater, this place was crawling with people. He turned off and parked behind some derelict outbuildings. He got out, taking his hunting equipment with him. He still had two charges to set.

The other truck slowed as it turned onto the side road where Stephane had last seen Jack's vehicle. Jack waited until it was nice and close, then pulled back the string and let fly. _Thwack._ Bull's eye. He strung another as the truck started to swerve. _Thwack_. Two tires down. The truck skidded to a halt and Stephane jumped out, using the truck as cover. Jack ran for his truck, his tires kicking up the gravel as the Mountie pumped the truck box full of bullets.

"Sh-t! Damn! F-ck! Piss!" Stephane stared helplessly after Jack. He turned and looked at his disabled truck. "_Tabernac!"_ He pulled out his phone. "Marc, you're not going to believe this. We're going to need a helicopter, f-ck."

**xxxxxxxx**


	5. Chapter 5

**Xxxxx**

Jen turned on the light with her elbow, dropped the diaper bag and reached for the phone. "Hello?" she was a little out of breath.

"Jen?" The voice on the other end was familiar. They'd only lived in town for a few months, but already Dave and his wife Beth and were good friends. They laughed that they shared a lot in common besides the men's names. Beth's husband thought Jen's husband was an RCMP veteran, retired from the force so he could spend more time with his young family. The two men enjoyed swapping what the women termed 'Bad Guy' stories.

"Oh, hey Beth." She moved the diaper bag closer to the wall with her foot so Dave didn't trip on it as he carried a sleeping Jessica into the front hall. "Listen, we just got in the door. We drove into Earls' for dinner, and Jess is sound asleep. Can I call you back once we've got her in bed?"

"Well, actually, I was wondering if Dave was there? It's kind of important." Her voice was tense. Jen reached for the stairs and pulled Dave's sleeve, stopping him. She covered the phone with her chest. "Dave. It's Beth. She wants to talk to you. She sounds upset."

Dave gave Jen a quizzical look, but nodded. Jen said "Sure, just a minute," and put the phone on the hall table while she and Dave did the Transfer the Sleeping Child dance. She could barely lift her daughter over her enormous belly, but she managed to get Jess upstairs while Dave picked up the phone.

"Hey, Beth. What's up?"

"Well, sorry to bother you Dave. You haven't heard from my Dave by any chance, have you?" Jen was right, she did sound upset.

"No, is he supposed to be home?"

"Yeah. It's probably nothing, but he was working regular hours today. And, well, it's 8 o'clock." Dave understood. His friend was a hard worker, but a strict union man. His Director rarely approved overtime, and they were too short staffed to take time and a half in lieu, so Dave lived by the credo that whatever couldn't be done in 7.5 hours could bloody well wait until the next day. He was never late home from work. "I see. And he hasn't called?"

"No." Dave could hear the catch in her voice as she gave a little self-conscious laugh. "It's probably nothing. It's just with all the weird stuff going on out here right now…"

"Listen Beth, I can make some calls and see what I can find out. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Dave."

"No problem. You just sit tight." He was zipping up his coat again when Jen came downstairs, refreshing the ponytail in her long brown hair as she went. "Dave's missing," he said grimly.

"What?" He explained what Beth had told him.

"I saw him over by Wilson's just before quitting time. I'm going to go take a look for him."

"Do you think that's a good idea?" She looked concerned.

"Don't worry, I'll be careful. I'll give Stephane and Marc a call on my way." He took his holster and badge from the front closet and gave her a quick kiss. "Don't wait up."

**Xxxxxx**

Dave was almost at the Wilson's when he saw the truck. It was pulled off on a side road leading to one of the well heads he'd checked with Jack earlier that day. He pulled in a little distance behind it and drew his weapon. The driver's door to the truck was open, but the light in the cab was off. It must have been that way for some time and drained the battery. Holding his gun in front of him, Dave cautiously approached the open door. He could see a figure slumped over the wheel. He checked for a pulse and noted that the rifle was gone from the rack behind the seat, and the officer's weapon was not in its holster. Dave returned to his truck and radioed the detachment. "I have an officer down on Range Road 34, near Township 390A."

While Dispatch arranged for backup and medical assistance, Dave checked the area around the truck carefully. There were four sets of recent tire tracks: his and Jack's from earlier that day, coming and going, a set leading up to the Conservation Officer's truck, and a fourth set where someone had driven over the shoulder back to the main road.

He dialed his cell phone.

"Marc? Yeah, it's Dave. Look, I found him over by Wilson's. He's been knocked out and restrained, but he's basically fine. And Marc? His weapons are missing, including his tranquilizer darts."

He made his friend as comfortable as possible, then returned to his truck and decided to drive up the two miles to check on the well head. As he pulled up next to the chain link fence, he could see a small red light on the gas pipe. He drew his weapon and approached for a better look. The light began to blink. _Sh-t!_ He dove for his truck just as the plastique exploded, sending a brilliant yellow fireball into the evening sky.

**Xxxxxx**

Jack heard the alarms going off at the refinery and saw the police cruisers tearing out of the station across the highway. _Right on schedule._ He glanced at his watch before returning his eyes to the scope of the Conservation Officer's tranquilizer gun. It was still light, but the sun was turning the few clouds in the west a light pink. Just enough daylight left to do this, then do the extraction in the dark.

He tracked the police van as it approached the gates to the minimum-security compound. _Three, two, one._ The signal lights at the gate flickered and went out. Jack fired two rounds, dropping the driver and the guard at the gate. He pulled his own gun, equipped with a silencer, and ran to back of the van, shooting out the lock. The door swung open to reveal a stunned-looking prisoner. "Jack? What are you doing here?"

"I'll explain later." Jack unlocked the shackles on the other man's ankles. "Come on, let's go."

The two men ran towards Jack's truck. They pulled away as a cruiser pulled up, lights flashing. "Hang on!" Jack shouted as he yanked the wheel, swerving away. The uniformed officer opened his door and took aim, firing off several shots. The passenger window shattered. "Get down!" Jack fired through the open window, and saw the officer fall.

Jack changed direction, heading toward a service road behind the prison. A few minutes later he pulled into a shed. He could hear the police helicopter overhead. It was almost dark, and the Blackhawk would be at the rendez-vous soon. He didn't have much time. He turned to Phil and saw he had been shot. "Dammit!" He checked for a pulse. The man was dead. Jack gathered his bag and the company parka. The helicopter was circling a few miles away. Jack decided to make a run for it.

He ran low through the aspens at the edge of the field. The light was fading fast, and the helicopter was not getting any closer. He ran more quickly, taking a few more chances in the open fields. At last he got to the pick-up point. He dropped to the ground, leaning against a tree to catch his breath. It was almost completely dark now.

He heard the click of a safety being taken off a gun and reached for his weapon. "RCMP. Drop it, Jack." Marc stepped out from behind a tree, shining his flashlight in Jack's eyes. Jack raised his hands so the Mountie could see his gun fall.

"How did you find me?"

"You think we wouldn't notice a Blackhawk scrambling on our own air force base?" Marc laughed dismissively. "We do have some intelligence-gathering capability, you know."

"So what are you going to do?"

Marc moved closer, lowering the flashlight. "I have instructions to let you go, you sonofabitch. Apparently there are larger things at stake."

Jack relaxed slightly. "I see."

"So who was he, to cause all this trouble?"

Jack figured he owed him this much, and Phil was dead anyway. "He was one of our agents. Our government doesn't like to let our people languish in foreign prisons."

"Why not go through diplomatic channels?" _**Our**__ government seems willing to do anything but blow your government. You should have had no problems getting us to bend over._ He was furious that this guy would get to walk away from the damage he'd caused, while he'd probably get busted back down to constable.

"There were some… sensitivities."

Marc snorted. "_é__videmment. _" The men were silent for a while. They heard the Blackhawk in the distance. "He died, you know."

"Who? The officer at the prison? I shot to wound--" Jack was confused. He was sure he hadn't missed.

"No, he'll be okay. Dave. Dave died."

"What?" Jack bit off the word, turning his head sharply to look at Marc. "How? I left him handcuffed to his truck. He was far enough away from the blast."

"Not that Dave. The other one. Your 'boss.'" The Blackhawk was almost there. "He was a Member. Special Task Force. Dave's wife called him and he went out to look for him, then he checked on the well-head. His own wife is due any day now."

Jack thought he was going to be sick. He dropped his head. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice low.

"Yeah, well. Wrong time, wrong place, I guess, eh? It's all the same to you guys." Marc spat into the bushes. "Here's your ride. _Va t'en._"

Jack could see the fires from the three well-heads blazing like bonfires below him as the helicopter flew away. Except for one. That one looked like a funeral pyre.

**xxxxxx**


	6. Chapter 6

**Epilogue**

It was long past midnight when Teri heard Jack's SUV pull into the driveway. The engine cut out. When she didn't hear a door open, she went to the window and cautiously peeked through the shade. She could see a dark figure in the driver's seat. She knew it was Jack. But what was he doing? Why wasn't he coming inside? _Why isn't he moving?_ Suddenly worried, she pulled her robe off the hook behind the door and slipped outside, quietly so she wouldn't wake Kim. She left the front door on the latch. As she got closer to the vehicle, she could see that Jack was moving after all. She stepped closer, then stopped. He was clutching his head, leaned over the steering wheel, shaking. _Is he… weeping?_ She could see that he was. The window was open slightly and she could hear faint sobs. He raised his head and banged on the dashboard with his fist, then put his face in his hands again.

She reached out her hand, then hesitated. He couldn't see her standing there in her slippers from where he was sitting. She wanted to go to him, but she sensed this was a private moment. Who knew how many times he had done this before? Maybe this was how he turned the switch that allowed him to be her same old Jack again. Her hand fell slowly back to her side. She snuck back to the house and crawled back into bed, shivering.

He was out there so long her plan to pretend she was asleep was almost reality when he finally pulled back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed in his boxers. He took off his watch and put on his wedding ring from the dish on the nightstand. He sat for a minute, wiping his face with his hands. He lay down slowly beside her, trying not to wake her. Gingerly, he put out a hand and brushed her cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She could feel him looking at her for a long time before he gently leaned over and kissed her forehead, light as a feather. "I'm back, sweetheart," he whispered, so softly she knew he did not want her to wake up.

**xxxxxxxxxxx**


End file.
